Under The Burning Sky
by Nan of Ingleside
Summary: Di Blythe was nineteen and her future seemed to stretch out before her like a straight road. But upon the outbreak of the Great War, she was faced with a bend in that road. And her life would never be safe or predictable again.
1. Before The Storm

_Well, it's been a while._

_I'm happy to be here again, writing to you! My life has been changing quite rapidly in my absence. I graduated, got accepted to my dream M.A. studies, have been working my fingers to the bone. But that doesn't mean I've forsaken to world of LMM!_

_This story has been in my head for years now. I'm going to take it really slow this time. No rushing, no lick-and-promise writing. Research. As much insight as possible. Breathing life into new characters, bringing up some of the old friends. That's more or less where I want to take it._

_Some points in the story are references to its prequel, Nan of Avonlea. You can read about them in the last couple of chapters (approximately five). Or you can just skip that. I hope to make flashbacks enough of a background. They won't be that important, anyway. Everything is going to change throughout the course of this story._

_Because this story is supposed to be different. I suspect some of you (maybe even most of you) may not like it all that much. I want to make my characters come to life, show their weaknesses, shake their principles and beliefs. Because my vision of WWI is closer to the one from TBAQ than RoI. Therefore my characters, my narration are going to differ quite considerably from what you might expect from a LMM fanfiction. _

_This chapter is telling rather than showing. It's an introduction to Di, to the way she is going to be portrayed here. __I would love to hear your opinions, also- or even especially- the negative ones. As always, I would be more than grateful for indicating any mistakes that escaped my notice. I'm still not a native. ;-)_

_Oh, and- I do sincerely hope that I'm not too late for some of my 'previous' readers. I've missed all of you._

* * *

As she opened the window, sun rays fell into the room, accompanied by slight puffs of salty breeze. She watched them pick up glints here and there on the narrow, shimmering ribbon of the brook in the Valley as she basked in the warmth for a little while. Baby Rilla was going to have splendid weather for her first dance, and thanks be, as she would have never forgiven the universe if it had been otherwise.

But then, not _everything_ had to be about Baby Rilla's first dance, did it? Even though she certainly thought so, frantically running about all day long, hauling Miss Oliver behind,

"Like a chicken with its head cut off," Shirley had hit the nail on the head, mumbling into Nan's ear at breakfast that morning.

It wasn't that she irritated Di, not exactly. As the eldest daughter, she even felt a touch of mother-hen pride and just a little sliver of wicked amusement. But- she was a little bitter.

"Which is never good before a dance," she said to herself.

She tore off a card in the calendar. August 4th, 1914. Di couldn't help a feeling it was going to be a special day. She was not one to fall for superstitions and misgivings; that share of the Blythe- or maybe rather, Shirley- ancestry had definitely fallen into Nan's lap. But there was something in the air; even her sensible, practical nature had to admit it. Something different, something- unforeseeable.

Not that the dance itself was all that stirring. She sighed with resignation, thinking of the company that was to be expected. The old gang of the Rainbow Valley days- Rilla, Miss Oliver and Shirley coming buckshee- among the Glen St. Mary and Mowbray Narrows young fry, whose faces were all well-known and familiar- and as workaday, commonplace and trivial as they could possibly be.

She had spent a whole year at home, teaching in Mowbray Narrows and commuting back to Glen St. Mary with Dad after his daily rounds. Ten repetitive, monotonous months. She had always been rather lonely in the glen if Merediths and her own siblings were not to be counted and it had certainly come to bear in their absence. Her only real good chum was Laura Douglas nee Carr, who had recently had a baby girl- a little thing just as plain, freckled and sandy- haired as her mother, although Di had sworn her to be an indescribable sweetling, of course- and, accordingly, had very little time for their nice, longish talks. Una Meredith, surprisingly, was also very busy. All the alternative choices were not _quite_ acceptable. Take Irene Howard with her spiteful, vanity- driven, lackadaisical conduct. Or Ethel Reese, forever trying to investigate her about whether Ken Ford was going to grace the Four Winds with his presence that summer. She still chuckled at the reminiscence of the poor boy's desperate attempts to put her off the scent.

As for the male part of the company- Di could not be surprised in this department, either. Their merits had been fairly well mapped out to her- and not very impressive. They were still the same boys with whom she had gone to school; Harry Lewison who had once stained her new muslin dress with ink and Dan Reese who never addressed her with any other denomination than 'Ginger'. The odds of being swept off her feet by a surge of romantic emotions were not very high.

Still, one _does_ want to look her best at parties, especially among the good-looking lot of Ingleside and the manse. Her new pale green organdy would have been just perfect for that - Dad was such a dear to buy it for her in Lowbridge to make sure she wouldn't feel 'unduly countrified' among 'Kingsport's spiteful cats'! But Rilla had burst into her room at noon, with despair-filled eyes, confessing that _she_ had planned to wear green to the dance- her _first_ grown-up dance- could Di maybe change?

Di was not a bad sister and it was rather funny to observe Rilla trying to strike the right balance between asking politely and threatening- but she had to resent the fact that brown silk was not quite as fit for a summer party. And not half as good with accentuating the milky whiteness of her skin. But she hoped that the night could still be enjoyable, with Walter by her side and Faith and Nan finally back. Although the latter was not that much of a comfort, really, since they were both bound to disappear into thin air with Jem and Jerry after a dance or two.

That was a surprising new touch to their connections, as well. Not so much so in the case of Faith and Jem maybe, but- Di couldn't help but wonder what possible reason Nan could have to fall for Jerry Meredith, of all people! Di had found the recent mishap with Ken and Jerry rather funny; her clever, learned, witty Nan had turned out to be as helpless and confused in the realm of sweethearting as possible. Di had seen fit to intervene, for the sake of both her sisters- although Baby Rilla, rather comically, was still of the persuasion that nobody noticed how infatuated she was- and the relations of the Blythe family with Fords and Merediths. The former were a bit strained now, as Ken showed up more sparsely those days. But it would pass, Nan assured her all the time, as she came into her room, time and time again, to discuss the whole confusion. Diana was inclined to think she was right; she and Ken were like two peas in a pot, they never _really_ quarreled. A tad of hurt pride and awkwardness, that was all- nothing that time and a few friendly gestures couldn't mend. And Nan was so deliriously happy that she was both a delight and a laughing-stock to watch.

Di could not understand it, personally. Granted, Jerry had 'turned out fine', as Mrs. Elliot would say, with all the attributes of an eligible bachelor, but he was still- well, Jerry. A boy from Glen St. Mary, a childhood chum with a very teasing manner and just that one bit of erudition too much for his own good. To tell the truth, she did not expect the charm to last very long in Kingsport, especially given the surprisingly vivid and clear memory of the dashing student who had helped Nan with her suitcase when she came back home from Avonlea. He was definitely more of the dreamy, romantic hero she saw Nan with. She just couldn't help thinking Jerry was not one for her- that perhaps Faith and Jem had served as some sort of an incentive- for no one in Glen St. Mary or Four Winds seemed right for _either_ one of them.

Somehow, Diana had always imagined that both for her twin and for herself, life would begin for real after leaving home and settling in a more sophisticated place. She loved Ingleside dearly, of course she did! But she had always thought- _known_- that their lives would be shaped away from it and its countryside ways.

Di had unknowingly put herself in the position of an observer, feeling oddly suspended for a while. Having no ardent interest in the life of Glen St. Mary, she had resolved to prepare herself for Redmond to the best of her abilities. She had been learning unrelentingly the whole time; in fact, she had grown a little tired of all the old wisdoms of Plato. But there was- always had been- a touch of twin rivalry between her and Nan in the academic sphere and she was determined to do her very best. As for the other aspects of their life in Kingsport- she just couldn't wait to rush head- first into _everything_! Oh, how they would take college by storm! She was not intimidated in the least, as Nan had confessed to be; no, she was raring to go! They would surround themselves with artists, musicians, Canada's future writers, poets for Walter- and some social reformers for Nan, too! They would all be brash and broad-minded, full of innovatory ideas, as all students should rightfully be. A boisterous and ambitious group of slight rakes, that's how she saw them, all incredibly winsome- and one exceptional gentleman especially so-

A dull thump snatched her out of her animated fits of imagination. It was Nan's signal for Di to come downstairs. It always took the younger Ingleside twin longer to get ready, with her time-consuming rites of brushing her hair fifty times- no more and no less- and putting cream on her face- Mother's old trick, that even Susan used. Di had caught her red-handed once, on one of her late night prowling trips to the pantry, her face smeared all white. How ridiculously flustered she had been! Di herself never had the patience nor the bent to deal with all the beauty enhancing procedures which her sister went about so conscientiously. It just took too much time and she far preferred to have another go at one of the novellas printed in 'The Daily Enterprise' in the privacy of her own room. She would have died if someone had seen her reading them, for she was perfectly aware of their poor quality. She would be especially mortified if Walter found out, but she quite enjoyed them after all the 'ologies and isms' she had forced herself to study- it was her guilty pleasure nobody had to know about. She locked the paper in the desk drawer, glad to still have a few pages to go through after she came back, and went downstairs, to the hall.

No matter how hard she would try, she couldn't fault the girl she found in the hallway mirror. Except for the dress, naturally.

She examined her face closely. She was told, time and time again, to look extraordinarily similar to her Mother- but she knew that similarity was very superficial. Her features lacked a certain bit of subtleness, her movements the elusive, almost imperceptible poise and her eyes the dreamy luster. She felt, sometimes, that she was Mother's shell, an infelicitous copy created by a cursory gesture, next to a masterpiece. Put very brusquely, she did not have the inner charm to elucidate her looks; she was far too sensible and practical for that. Thanks be she had taken Mother's height and her pretty nose; but there was one bit of her ancestry she had never resigned herself to.

Father loved her hair and so did Walter. But Di detested every single lock. And it seemed to be getting worse with time. It once had merely a swirl to it, just like Mother's, curling at its ends. But with time, it seemed to have developed a personality of its own- and a very boisterous one. It was positively _frizzy_, unmanagable and red with the vivid, marigold- like redness. Not quite like little Rilla's sleek brown-tinted waves and _certainly_ not like Nan's dark, glossy cascade.

But now, for once, it looked decent. With the aid of Nan's nimble fingers and some mysterious concoction drawn from a small glass jar, it had straightened itself and now smoothly fell down her arms in thick waves, lending her face a tangible contour. The four freckles which had crept up on her nose through the summer were not visible against it. Her eyes were lucidly greenish, not quite green enough to be really striking but still undeniably alluring. Di smiled as she took a step back to fix her skirt.

A lightsome patter played on the staircase, behind her back. Di turned around, but Nan was already next to her, playfully brushing against her hip with her own one, pushing her aside.

"Make some space, popinjay," she said teasingly. "May I remind you there's only one mirror in this house big enough to show the whole silhouette- and it has to go round for three daughters."

Di watched as Nan carefully slipped back a few lustrous, unruly strands. She had had her hair trimmed by a hairdresser in Charlottetown just the other day and Di had to admit she looked delightful with this new fluffy forelock.

Had she ever been jealous of Nan's appearance? Why, of course! How could she not be, when her sister drew both the Blythe looks _and_ the Shirley nose out of the genetic pool? But she was, at the same time, the most ardent admirer of Nan's beauty- with the exception of Jerry Meredith, maybe.

Faith Meredith may have been beautiful with the queenly, classical sort of beauty and Persis Ford was downright gorgeous with her blue eyes, golden hair and dimpled smile. But, in Di's eyes at least, Nan's beauty overshadowed them both, precisely because it was of a subtler, more delicate kind. She had always thought her sister looked like an elphin changeling among them, with that flower-like face of hers, porcelain skin and dark fans of eyelashes. So yes, Di was jealous at times. Having an especially lovely sister while being only relatively attractive yourself necessities jealousy. But she was envious in her smart, sensible way, without resentment, bitterness and rivalry.

Nan was in white muslin. She wrapped a pearlstring around her simple bun, then fixed her rose posy. Jerry always sent Nan roses and somehow they always managed to go perfectly with her dress choice for the occasion. Di had to smirk; Nan might have been enamored, but she wasn't taking any chances.

Diana looked into the mirror which now showed them both. Then she heaved a meaningful sigh. Nan froze, her hands pressed to her cheeks.

"I absolutely hate it when you do that," she said caustically.

"Make an effort and look just a tiny bit worse, then."

"I am!" Nan cried despairingly and pointed at a single blemish on her peaches and cream complexion. Not big enough to be noticed by anyone else than Nan herself, of course. "A pimple, today! Even cream didn't help- and it's so dreadfully visible! I'm so desperate I could strike another deal with God."

"Nan Blythe!" Diana said with mock indignation.

"Well, he did help me with my missing tooth once, remember? Before Amy Taylor's birthday party," her sister laughed light-heartedly. She fixed her dress again, then suddenly blurted out, "You really have no reason to sigh, Di. You look perfectly lovely."

"Hm. Thank you. But it doesn't change the fact that nobody will notice my perfect loveliness when I'm next to you."

"You know that's not true. You're also perfectly aware that Harry Lewison is head over heels for you, you wicked thing!"

Diana waved her hand dismissively, as Nan was scanning her figure.

"But this dress is no good," she pronounced authoritatively. "That is, it's lovely and it suits you. But it's just not– not- _right_. Not today."

"Well, what else should I do?" Di asked with a touch of irritation, as Nan had touched a sore spot. "I wanted to wear my new green one, but _apparently_ Rilla holds the monopoly for everything from olive to mint."

Nan nodded in understanding.

"I am going to wear my silver slippers from Aunt Leslie, though, whether or not our dear Baby wears hers!" Di said defiantly.

Nan smirked knowingly and lifted her skirt a little to reveal her feet, clad in the said footgear. Then she knitted her brow, thinking intensely.

"Brown silk just does not ring well next to a dance at the light. That just begs for muslin- or white lace," she pronounced with solemnity and all of a sudden snapped her fingers, beaming with joy, having found a solution. Di had to smile. "Preferably the Chantilly type, like the one Aunt Leslie sent me recently!"

There, the camel's back broke. Nan was tall now- and she had always been very slender, with narrow waist and well balanced arms. Di, on the other hand, had always slanted towards plumpness- and a year worth of the Susan diet had taken its toll, much to her dismay. She almost stomped her foot.

"Nan, you know perfectly well it won't fit me. I couldn't _possibly_ squeeze myself into it."

"No need to get in a huff!" Nan retorted. Di wondered fleetingly where she took such expressions from, Mr. Douglas? "You didn't let me finish. It's a bit loose for me, and I haven't had it taken in yet. So you will _squeeze_ yourself into it alright!"

Despite her protests, Nan dragged her upstairs and made her change. And when Di stood in front of the mirror again, she had to admit her sister had been right. She was utterly transformed.

"We'll both be wearing white, though. Quite proper if we are to fit our roles of Cinderella's ugly sisters for the night."

Nan laughed before rushing into Dad's study to come back with an orchid bud.

"Don't tell on me!" she said, winking. "There. It wouldn't have gone with the brown one, but it's perfect now. You have just the looks for the little extravagant bits, and you're the only one of us, too."

She observed the result with apparent self-satisfaction.

"Really, Di Blythe, you could be such a bijou if only you-"

"What, learned how to dress properly?" Di cut in caustically. Nan's face froze in an unstrung expression before wincing visibly.

"I was going to say 'believed in yourself'," she said slowly. "Are you really going to act towards me as all the other girls do? Imputing how shallow and conceited I am? Di, you know that's what I hate most- you know that's what _hurts_ me most!"

There was a querulous note to her voice, and Di felt terrible. She had let her own insecurities get the better of her and there was the result. She knew that Nan's strained contacts with the female part of Glen St. Mary's lot would always rankle and so she rushed with the apology.

"Nan, I didn't mean it to sound like that! I'm sorry- I really am. You know I don't think that about you- you must know that. I've told you too many times not to worry about those idiots."

Nan shot her a brief, but meaningful look. She didn't answer; the doorbell rang and she rushed to open it.

"I could be perfectly happy now if I knew I was going to actually dance," Faith Meredith chirped as she went inside, Una- quiet as ever- a few steps behind her. "It's a night made for dancing and I am not going to hide how jealous I am of you both. And Una here tells me I have no right to be, since there will be taffy pull and plenty of work in the kitchen for us. Fancy that! Why, Di, you look bully!"

"Ah, the ever so flattering surprise in your voice," Diana sneered good-naturedly. "Not to mention the elegant vocabulary of your compliment. I must connote really well in your mind."

Faith giggled, amused, and turned to Nan again.

"I have no doubts putting myself in your hands now," she handed over a little bag with hairstyling paraphernalia.

"You mean to tell me you did have doubts?" Nan cried with pretended rancor and they all laughed. "Come, I have just the thing for you."

They settled in the Ingleside parlor, and as Nan was too focused brushing Faith's lovely, golden tresses and Di too enraptured gazing at them longingly, Una got a word in edgeways.

"I wasn't going to come," she said. "Baby Bruce is not feeling quite right today and I wanted-"

"To deny yourself another pleasure because of him," Faith cut in. "It's a good job Mother Rosemary forced you to go. You've made a perfect slave of yourself, Una."

"It would have been a shame if nobody saw you in this dress, too," Nan said with a smile.

Di agreed with her; Una was not one to be seen on Glen St. Mary's gatherings very often. She knew that better than anybody else, having spent the year at home. They rarely got to see her in anything else than her simple, though very neat cotton dresses. She now looked quite bewitching in her dark blue taffeta, her hair braided into a perfect imitation of Mrs. Meredith's simple updo. She was still quite plain, Di thought, but her almond-shaped, indigo eyes had an utterly new and quite intriguing look about them, as if she knew all the secrets in the world. She told her that, for she had a feeling Una would not get many compliments- unrightly so- as nobody ever seemed to think of her in _that_ way.

Diana had some suspicions about Una. Being too quiet and angelic to be involved in any sweethearting business, as it seemed so brusque with regard to her, did not mean Una herself did not harbor any secret feelings. She was too honest to to hide anything, really, and Di wondered at times why her beautiful eyes shone so peculiarly whenever Walter entered the room. Her cheeks took on a slight shade of pink when he spoke to her and she grew even more abashed and quiet than usual. It might have been very intuitive, as Walter did enjoy her wordless, soothing presence in his reconvalescence.

"Una has to be in the background, somewhere," he had told Di once. "Otherwise, nothing seems to be quite right."

She sighed a little then and did not respond. In the background- and only that. For the one who was always on Walter's pedestal was- Faith, unfortunately. Di could not help but think Walter's ardent love for beauty was what had led him astray in this case. She had every reason to think Una loved him- and Una was most capable of the selfless, loyal, enduring kind of love. Faith, on the other hand-

Faith _was_ lovely, of course, inside and out. 'Pride of the community', Mrs. Elliot called her. But she seemed a bit too earthbound for Walter- too loud, too boisterous. And next to her quiet sister, all her qualities suddenly seemed slightly less valuable- although Di would not be caught dead verbalizing that opinion. What was really crucial was the fact that she belonged to Jem and Jem alone. But she knew about Walter's feelings perfectly well, girls like her always know. It was obvious by the way she had been trying to avoid him ever since she came back from Kingsport.

Di was snatched out of her reverie by Faith herself, laughing wildly at something Nan had whispered into her ear. They had grown very close in the past few weeks, due to the similarity of their plights. It seemed that when they were not with Jem and Jerry, they were together, giggling over confessions about them-

Ah, there it was again. That little sliver of resentment which Di felt at times. Nan had been away for so long that every twin in her right mind would think they would be inseparable after she finally came back home. Di had thought so, anyway. But Nan seemed to be growing apart, keeping so many secrets- Jerry's, Jem's, her own ones. The four 'lovebirds', as Glen St. Mary had grown to call them, had taken to spend time in their own company and it left her feeling very isolated. To be fair, Nan did try to spend as much time with her as possible.

"Penciling me in," Di thought, as it was obvious she was not a priority in her sister's agenda at the moment. Perhaps for that reason Di had taken against Faith a little; that, and also because of her perfect listlessness regarding Walter's feelings. She _was_ happy for Jem! But she couldn't help feeling Faith would become a wedge between her brothers. That estranged her, although she was perfectly aware that it was unfounded and quite wrongful. Oh, but _knowing_ was so much different than _feeling_!

"There," Nan said all at once, handing over a little mirror. "I do consider myself a prodigy, to skip the false modesty."

Di finally understood why Nan had been casting sideward glances to the mantelpiece the whole time. She had been looking at Artemis of the Silver Bow, recreating her updo. It was very becoming, especially coupled with Faith's maroon georgette.

"Who will you be hunting tonight?" Di snickered a little, as Faith looked at herself with visible approval.

"Try and get a few arrows in Irene Howard, will you?" Nan asked, picking up the remaining hair pins.

"She'll be there?" Faith groaned. "I hoped she would still be in Charlottetown, at her aunt's, having some more dresses done to make us all feel provincial to the core."

"No," Nan informed her grimly. "She is more than sure to be there at our service, dropping little remarks about buying a cow when you can get milk for free. She won't be insinuating anything, naturally."

To take their minds off the matter, Di asked one of her down-to-earth questions.

"And how did your house- hunting go? Did you find anything?"

Faith had one to Kingsport with Jerry to find a flat for the three of them. The twins were initially to stay with Uncle Irving's family, Little Elizabeth- Mrs. Irving now- and their daughter, Anne Lavendar. But Uncle Paul had gotten a Professorship at Kingsport and they had found themselves rather awkwardly accommodated with their future lecturer.

"Not much," Faith shook her head sorrowfully. "It was rather late when you told me about it. Firstly, I almost didn't get my down payment back- but you know how persuasive Jerry can be when dealing with dishonest landlords," Nan almost swelled with pride, and Di had to cover a smirk again.

"And I wouldn't be dragged to that shabby boarding house by wild horses ever again! Then all the other flats were either too small or too expensive. And then- I did find something quite fit for all three of us. It's what Kingsport calls 'the students' crescent', all the houses are rented by our Redmond lot. I have been there visiting friends before. The house seemed comfortable enough, and there were some trees for you in the back garden, Nan, and the distance to the college is sensible enough, just as you would like it, Di."

Both twins looked up hopefully.

"The problem is, there are three bedrooms in the house, one of which has two beds. Two of us would have to live together."

"But- but that's not a problem, is it, Di?" Nan said unhesitatingly. "We shared a room at Queen's, after all."

"Yes- but the third room would be empty then- we'd have to pay for it as the landlord did not agree to look for another tenant for us- and I cannot possibly afford that, even with Jerry's scholarship," Faith spluttered, a guilty glow creeping up her full cheeks. "I could only pay for a little cubicle at the ground floor. And this other room is quite big, so it won't be easy to find a cotenant."

Di and Nan were both quiet for a moment- then they exchanged meaningful glances, which did not escape Faith's notice. She looked at them expectantly.

"We- might have a solution," Nan said haltingly. "I just don't know how you're going to take to our proposal."

"You can find that out very easily, just by telling me," Faith sneered.

"Oh, don't talk like Jerry," Nan bristled up, pouting. "Really, one oversmart Meredith is enough for the world to bear."

They all laughed and then Di said with sudden decision,

"We might have a just the right person to rent the bigger room. Money seems to be no object in her case."

"Is Irene Howard going to Redmond?" Faith asked in horror.

"No- but Persis Ford is," Di said straightforwardly, receiving her share of kicks in the ankle, Nan's way of rebuking her for the lack of diplomacy.

Faith knitted her brow.

"Persis is going to study in Redmond?" she asked disbelievingly. "For why? She could study in Toronto, for crying out loud! And Ken tells me she is already a hit with all the Sophomores and half the Juniors, even though she's only been there once, to fetch a book he'd forgotten."

"Out of sheer contrariness, I suppose," Nan said honestly. "And to go against Aunt Leslie. Her letter came the day you went to Kingsport. She wants to at least begin college somewhere quiet and away from home, because she was bickering with Aunty all the time in Japan."

"They're much too similar to live in peace, that's that," Di shrugged her shoulders. "Uncle Owen was not very happy to have his little girl go away, but gave his permission eventually. Fathers are naturally more agreeable."

"You'd know, wouldn't you?" Nan smirked at her twin. "Oh, it all seemed so inopportune- but now it would be quite timely, wouldn't it? It's just that- we know you and Persis are not on the best of terms," Nan fidgeted unsteadily, dropping hairpins all around. Una had been picking them up for a while.

But then Faith stood up and impatiently folded her arms across her chest.

"Oh, stop it, both of you!" she admonished.

"Stop what?"

"Walking on eggshells around me, as if I were some overbearing despot, always ordering you about. Of course it's a perfect solution. I don't know Persis much, but I suppose she can't be too bad, you all being such friends with her and Ken being such a chum. And if I'm honest-" Faith suddenly lost much of her momentum, "I am quite ashamed that I never agreed to meet Persis- not for real. I was a goose and- I suppose I was just jealous of her. I mean, Glen St. Mary seethes with legends about her beauty and her wits- and _clothes_- so I felt a little threatened that you wouldn't like me as much as her. Such a little fool! As long as _she_ doesn't mind living with me, I am not going to object."

The ever impulsive Nan tossed aside her bag- all the hairpins dropping on the floor to poor Una's dismay- and clasped her in a tight embrace.

"Oh, we're going to have so much fun together- you'll love Persis, you'll see!"

If Faith had any doubts about it, she did not voice them and Di felt quite reverent towards her. She had always known Faith felt insecure about Persis- but she would never have expected her to admit it so openly.

"We'll have to write back as soon as possible," she remarked, knowing Nan might be too happy about the prospect to remember such trivialities. "As soon as we come back tonight. That reminds me- what time is it?"

The clamor in the hall harbingered the arrival of the boys. They all piled outside where Nan and Faith received their usual share of compliments; Jem went about them rather vocally, while Jerry somehow managed to express the same admiration in just one look. Walter gallantly attended to the unacccompanied girls.

"You are a night nymph, Una," he said with a wistful smile on his beautiful lips. Then he turned to her- and his eyes shone. "This coiled hair on your head, unrolled, fell down you like a gorgeous snake," he quoted, smiling. "You look just like a blazing snowflake."

Mother came out to wave them out, as always. Susan was behind her, sulking, for the twins had skipped dinner to make sure their dresses would look as good as possible.

"And to leave some space for all the goodies at the lighthouse," Di had explained, but it did not help, as Susan only sulked more to think they put the Lewisons' cakes over her roast.

Rilla emerged from behind them. She _was_ rather lovely in her green dress, but Di couldn't help thinking she looked like a child dressed up as an adult. As the oldest sister, she was quick to forget that she herself had been only slightly older than Rilla when she first went to a party. Nan nudged her with an elbow and her eyes pierced Rilla's hair.

"How does she even lift her head with so many pansies on it?" she whispered and they both giggled a little. It might have seemed vicious, but it was only sheer amusement at Rilla's unflagging efforts to appear older than she was- or even than they were.

"You look very pretty, Rilla," Nan said loudly, a bit repentant, and Di nodded eagerly. 'Baby need not know' had always been the twins' saying.

Jem summoned them all and they left the house, laughing, taking one another by the arm and waving back.

"Don't be mad, Susan!" Nan called over her shoulder. "I won't be able to dance properly if I know you're angry with me!"

Susan sent her a sullen look and graciously waved the dishcloth she was holding.

Di was a little disappointed to see that Walter, having bestowed an ounce of interest on Una for once, renounced her utterly and pulled her to the side. But it was not very strong- Una would walk with Shirley, as usual, and _she_ could selfishly enjoy Walter's company. Goodness knows they both needed a little oasis of time for themselves, with Rilla always following him around.

Di breathed in the resinous air. Rilla might have had the dress, but she was _never_ taking Walter away. Di would have been far more militant in that case. But then, she heaved a little sigh of contentment, she would not have to. Walter bent his head, as he was wont to, when he was about to tell a secret- a secret he wouldn't share with anyone else than her.


	2. A Walk To The Light

_here, another filler chapter. I feel like the story needs a background since the next chapter will be rather eventful, hence the rather static introduction in the first two. it's rather short if that's any comfort._

_I'm not sure how I did- but then I hardly ever am. Walter is my greatest fear; I just can't muster enough depth to write him well. is he- bearable, at least?_

_I wanted to thank you or all your reviews- special thanksgo to AnneFan here, as I cannot PM you- I'm always so glad to receive them, they are the greatest source of insight and inspiration! and it feels so nice to get them at the beginning of a story, there can really be no greater encouragement. I hope you will share your impressions with me- also the ones about things I got wrong- so that I could get them right (ish). _

_the underlined part comes from LMM's 'Rilla of Ingleside'._

* * *

As soon as they piled out the Ingleside gate, to the accompaniment of Dog Monday's rueful howling, they paired off after a fashion. Jem walked with Faith Meredith, naturally, and Jerry Meredith with Nan. Di and Walter were together, walking slowly; Walter- inhaling the dark loveliness of the evening, Di- examining their little crowd, gradually swelling with neighbors as the parade moved through the Glen.

Oh, _look_ at Carl Meredith, marching next to Miranda Pryor just for the purpose of tormenting Joe Milgrave; the poor boy would not get a lot of his beloved 'bug-talk'- Susan's term- since Miranda would probably squeek and run- or, more likely, faint to hear about the lately Westropp's discovery. She sometimes cast hankering glances at Joe, but walked on sedately, the appreciation of the company of Queen's graduate and parson's son in one person smeared across her pallid face. Di chuckled.

Shirley and Una walked together again. They were both rather silent and, even having known their quiet nature and the likely contentment at not having to talk in excess, she still could not fathom how they managed to stay so calm and unmoved in the face of the beauty surrounding them. As for herself, she could have sung in loud voice at that very moment.

"I know what you're thinking of," Walter whispered. "You're wondering whether Kingsport will look so beautiful at night. Or am I wrong?"

"When have you ever been wrong?"

The dark road uncoiled before them with all its little firs and spruces, closing them in a dome of resinous, balmy air. The westerning hills were still tinted with the last vestiges on sunlight, but the sky above their heads was canopied with stars, twinking- as though they were at their fingertips. Di turned her head a little and Walter' clear, manly profile came into view. He added to the beauty of the night.

Walter was, as he had always been, the handsomest of the Ingleside boys, with those glossy black hair and faultless features of his. His eyes were gray- gray like first frost, like silvery mists over dark valleys, and always somewhat distant; but the inner luster suggested that wherever his soul was wandering- it was a very beautiful place. A poet to his fingertips, Miss Oliver had once said, and rightly so!

Diana admired and loved Walter with all her heart. She couldn't even compare the feelings harbored for him in her heart to those she had for Jem or Shirley; _and_ she didn't feel an ounce of guilt. Walter was just as devoted to her.

What was once called 'especial chums' in the Ingleside parlance had turned into kinship of souls. If they had often said the same thing together as children- at present they did not even need to speak, they just looked into each other's eyes. Their hearts spoke one language. Walter almost always called her 'My Di' and her ear caught the emphasis on the pronoun, that one precious bit more prominent than in his pet name for little Rilla. They belonged to each other, now- and would belong always and forever. She desperately wanted to believe that.

And it seemed so, for all the world, as they walked on in comfortable silence. Jem and Faith rushed ahead of them, engrossed in a story he was telling.

"The doctor lost both his legs–they were smashed to pulp–and he was left on the field to die. And he crawled about from man to man, to all the wounded men round him, as long as he could, and did everything possible to relieve their sufferings–never thinking of himself–he was tying a bit of bandage round another man's leg when he went under. They found them there, the doctor's dead hands still held the bandage tight, the bleeding was stopped and the other man's life was saved. Some hero, wasn't he, Faith? I tell you when I read that–"

Di moaned.

"I know it's a beautiful story of courage, sacrifice and the goodness of human nature; why, I almost cried when I read it myself. But I _do_ wish Jem would save it for a more fitting occasion. Does Faith really take so kindly to it, I wonder?"

"Oh, is _that_ any better, in your opinion?" Walter laughed and, in one of his all too rare fits of cutting humor, nodded to another pair, speeding past them.

"_No_, the war is not said and done yet! I refuse to believe it so long as it is not declared. I swear, Jerry, I have yet to meet a fatalist like you- to think I could have gone with Una and Shirl instead!" Nan seethed, but somehow managed to do it in a low voice, softened by a warm undertone. The power of her message suffered greatly.

Di and Walter exchanged eloquent glances- and laughed light-heartedly. Then Di noticed a little envious look which Baby Rilla shot her over Miss Oliver's head- and she wounded her arm through his.

"Rilla looks lovely," she said magnanimously, as he pressed her fingers.

"Exeptionally so," Walter corrected her. "She looks lovely on a daily basis. Tonight she is as fair as the dawn and as fresh as a- pansy, rather than daisy."

"Oh, of course, she's in fine feather. A bit too fine for her first dance- a bit too early for a girl not yet fifteen- a bit too much for a party which Irene Howard will attend. I can already hear the gossips she is going to send into the air after tonight! But, well, since Ken is going to be there-"

She caught Walter's eyes in the midst of her tirade.

"Oh, don't look at me with this sad, reproachful older- brotherly look! I'm not being vicious- I love our Baby as much as anyone could. I'm just more objective than you are, since she does not fawn over me so devotedly. And I have the uncomfortable role of the outstaged sister to play for tonight. Hence the chip on my shoulder, I suppose."

Walter laughed his quiet, velvety laugh.

"As if anyone could do that," he said, taking both her hands in his and standing in front of her. "Outshine you, that is. Not you- you with all your moonshine charm, that ever-changing play of feeling on your sweet, freckled face. Not now, when you look just like a full-blown anemone. No, My Di, Nan may be a flower elf and Rilla a sweet, little sylphid- but _you_ are a dryad, you are one with the winds, you whisper with the woods. The laurel of the beauty of Ingleside rests on your head, dear."

Di blushed at this poem of a compliment, but she was not pleased enough not to notice a little loophole; Faith Meredith could not stake claims to the title reserved for Ingleside girls.

"My, I am so glad you are my brother. I would be swept off my feet now, if I were just another Glen girl swooning at you."

But his admiration touched her very heart. It was something real as Walter never told falsehoods; it came straight from his beauty-longing heart. Had anyone else said the words, they would have been thoroughly cliché perhaps. But from Walter- they were all truth and all poetry.

He smiled, as Di rested her head on his shoulder, resuming their walk. She felt a fleeting touch of remorse for her treatment of Rilla; perhaps she _had_ been a little too rapacious, driven by an undercurrent of jealousy. But how silly would she be now, thinking a little sister could usurp her in his heart!

When Rilla looked back again, Di smiled at her. She suddenly felt sorry for her, knowing the pains which jealousy may set ablaze. But she soon turned away, for one such pain was sparkled in her own heart.

Far before them, two pairs were binding. Jem and Jerry were both positively galloping forward, hauling Faith and Nan behind; they all met at the turn of the road from which, Di knew, they could see the harbor shore. They had covered the whole distance without a glance back, without a single thought about the rest of the company- and now Nan and Faith linked their free arms with each other. They were both positively beaming with aplomb and glee- and seemed fully absorbed in their companions and each other.

Di didn't manage to scowl, however; at that very moment Nan turned back and, not having a free hand to beckon her with, she made do with a summoning toss of her head.

It didn't matter that Jem, impatient to skipper one of the boats moored near the little pier right below the quiet House of Dreams, pulled them firmly and they bumped into one another like beads on a string, laughing as if there was no greater joy in the world than tripping on a sandy road- other than having your toes stepped over.

But Di unbent her half-knitted brow. Nan _did_ notice, after all- and she turned around as soon as Di's heart began to fret in doubt. As if she could sense it. Their bond- a bond which only twins can know- was not severed; if one of them moved away, the other one was drawn in her direction.

"I am much too old for the amounts of jealousy I still have I me," she mused in thought. "Nan and Walt both would speak with one voice that I'm acting ridiculous."

Nan saved a place in the boat for her, right next to herself- and she even thought of Walter, positioning him directly in front of Di. Right next to Faith Meredith, too, but poor Nan was not to know how inopportune this seating was.

Thanks be that Jem and Joe Milgrave urged everybody into the boats as if they had no manners at all, impatient for their race; thanks be that Jem was so disgruntled upon losing that Nan sneered at his scowl all the way upon the rock-cut step, lined with Japanese lanterns and wallflower fellows; thanks be, finally, that Rilla was so excited that she almost left her old, comfortable shoes at the pier, as she was so quick as to put on her silver slippers before the climb. Thanks be that no one noticed Faith's sudden silence and Walter's darkened, stormy eyes. Thanks be, in particular, that Una didn't see it, chasing Rilla with her boots.

And that Di herself did not have to watch his torment for long.


	3. The Piper's Call

_hello, again! _

_I've proofread and changed it so many times that I'm confused about the effect. there is a slight deviation from the main plot in the form of some Nan/Jerry fluff- oblige me. ;-) sometimes, though not too often, I will be departing from Di's point of view, just because I will have so many characters in the story that it would be a shame not to explore their experiences. and I hope it's more pardonable now, when she is slightly less afflicted by the war than some other girls. _

_than you for your wonderful reviews! it is great to receive them in the very first flush of a story. AnneFan, thank you especially for your kind words about Walter, I'm always really nervous about him. I hope this next installment does not let you down... too much._

_the underlined parts come from 'Rilla of Ingleside'. _

* * *

Rilla's first party was a triumph- but she was not the only one enjoying herself. As soon as Di stepped inside the lighthouse, filled to the brim with laughter and music, somebody grabbed her card to claim the first one of her dances.

The host of the dance himself- Harry Lewison, of course! Di's lips curved in the faintest of smirks.

The Blythes had more connection to the Lewisons than any other family in Four Winds; Father had saved the younger of their two daughters, little Hannah, from a dangerous round of pneumonia. Ever since, they have been honoring 'that invaluable Dr. Blythe' with countless invitations to the many enterprises which they organized whenever they came to their summer house in the Upper Glen. They hailed from Charlottetown, which made them seem like the next of kin to the queen herself in the eyes of the Glen folk; although Miss Cornelia scoffed at them as 'Methodists, Methodists to the core'.

Di, for her part, knew better. She had spent many a summer day, playing with the Lewison children either at Ingleside or at the Lewisons' abode; she and Nan sometimes babysitted little Hannah. She knew Harry Lewison may have moved in higher cirles, he may have attended theaters more frequently and traveled more broadly than any of the boys she knew- save Ken Ford, of course- but that didn't mean his tastes or pursuits were any more elevated.

"You look very pretty tonight, Di," was the pinnacle of his finesse presently. Di thanked him with a smile, appreciating the rapture in his voice if not the wording, and let him scribble his name on some more waltzes on her card. He was not a disagreeable looking fellow; in fact, he was rather handsome with the rugged, manly kind of good-looks. She knew he was 'gone' on her, as the Glen young fry would have it, and although she did not reciprocate his feelings- oh, what a prospect!- it felt strangely satisfying to have some attendance danced on you.

She whirled around happily for a little while, humming to the witching music of Ned Burr's violin. Harry was rather funny, too, and her loud, vivacious laugh rang in the room, making Walter turn his head to find her in the crowd and smile joyfully.

Then Ned ordained the new confusion of a dance called foxtrotte, which Di had to split between two partners- then she danced with Jem, who was about to leave with Faith and so wanted to deliver on his brotherly duties, then Hazel Lewison whisked her off for a cosy chat.

Unlike their little sister, the Ingleside twins were on rather friendly terms with Hazel, despite a slight age difference. She was one of the not so many girls who did not badmouth Nan behind her back; thus, she did not trespass on Di's sense of loyalty. Nan had, in fact, an even more confidential relatin with her, since Charlottetown women folk held a similar view of Hazel herself. Di sometimes laughed that the girl lived up to her name in full, with her nut-brown hair, hazel eyes and thick skin, developed through years of denigration. Hazel was more infinitely more agreeable than her brother with her brisk, but calm ways. She always gave the best reading recomendations, too. The only flaw in her was-

"I hope everyone is having fun," she whispered hotly into Diana's ear. "I'm always so nervous when I'm hosting a party- as if I were a mother, and about to present my baby to the most picking of mother-in-laws! Have you seen Ken Ford?"

"Why, does he seem most mother-in-lawy to you?" Di teased, but Hazel's only response was a little, playful twinkle in her dark eyes.

Di looked around for him- of course, he was there. Even with a lame ankle, he would not miss a single dance held in Four Winds that summer, even if he would sometimes gib at the music or the company- though he had never been heard complaining about food!

He was presently looking rather grimly at Nan, dancing with Harvey Crawford. Th boy must have been stepping on her toes, because she winced every now and then- but they seemed engrossed in conversation. Di walked up to him and stood behind his back.

"It's not polite to eye people like that, Kenneth," she told him solemnly, making him shudder slightly, much to her amusement. He turned around, looked at her and winked in surprise. Diana rolled her eyes. "It doesn't make it any more polite if you just change the object, you know. I would have thought they taught you the basic points of good conduct in Toronto."

He laughed. Di may not have been as close to him as Nan was; but they had spent quite some time together, reaching a compromise of a kind in occupying Walter's time. And she liked to ruffle his feathers every now and then- she had to hand it to him that, although spoiled by the flocks of girls swooning at him, he took better to her jokes than most people.

"I'm sorry. You just happen to look particularly stunning today."

"Nan's doing," she answered, sipping the sweet of the compliment and deciding not to mind its slightly surprised undertone. "Wait until you see Rilla."

"Rilla?" Ken asked, turning around again. "She old enough to go to dances already? Drats, I'm feeling senile."

"Not quite old enough. Walter coaxed Mother over to let her go," Di reassured. "You're staring again. Mourning what you've lost?"

"Not quite," he answered flatly. "I'm just wondering whether I will ever be able to dance with Nan again, as a friend of old, or whether Jerry Meredith will want to unhinge my jaw every time I even entertain the possibility in thought."

It was Di's turn to laugh.

"Jerry despises physical violence, so I daresay you needn't be afraid. Your perfectly chiseled mandible is in no danger."

He nudged her slightly.

"Now that's wicked, Di, even for you! It's not my fault that Ethel Reese called it that. I was merely helping with the groceries- and not of my own accord, either!"

"Oh, I don't doubt it wouldn't be your intention to help a _country_ girl."

"Give it up, Di," he said with a waggish smile. "I forgot what a tease you are- and I must say I was rather enjoying the bliss of ignorance."

"That's right, we haven't been seeing you very much this summer," Di nodded her head. "But then, whose fault would that be?"

His light-toned response turned into a sigh.

"I didn't want to- exacerbate the situation. Especially since I'm so at fault here."

"Nan doesn't bear grudges," Di told him openly. Her twin wouldn't say so, but Di knew that Nan missed her longish talks with Ken. Little wonder, too- they had been the best of friends long before the Merediths loomed on the Glen horizon.

"_She_ may not bear grudges, but _Jerry_ certainly does. Although I admit he's acting very noble about it. Now Jem, on the other hand, gives me even more watchful looks these days- and not just when I stand next to Faith, but also when I as much as look at Nan."

Di laughed.

"Jem is the oldest son, he is overly protective by necessity," she said. "You are welcome at Ingleside any time you want. And I'm not just speaking for myself."

"Why, thank you. But it's not merely that I feel awkward after the whole- confusion," funny, Di thought, how everyone called it that, even Nan herself. "I simply feel at fault."

"As you should," she conceded.

He smiled bitterly.

"I knew you'd say that. Honestly, though," he turned to her and looked into her eyes," I feel like a complete idiot. I shouldn't have assumed-" then he broke off suddenly.

"You shouldn't have," she conceded again, and her voice was cooler this time.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly. "I don't know why I'm boring you now, talking about your sister only, when you're here, bursting to dance," he stretched out his hand. "Shall we?"

Di tilted her head, as she answered lightly,

"No."

Ken was truly astounded.

"Why not?"

"Firstly, because I assume no girl has ever refused to dance with you before and I'm in the mood for some pioneering work tonight," she counted on her fingers. "And secondly, because Jem says you're not supposed to dance. Lame ankle, remember?"

He moaned.

"For goodness sake, Di, you know how I hate people bringing up that blasted ankle!"

"Indeed, I do," she said with a meaningful smile.

He glared- and then laughed.

"At least join me for a glass of punch, then. For old times' sake?"

So she did- then they parted as Ken bolted, sending her an apologetic glance when Hazel and Ethel Reese charged at him from the two other sides of the dancefloor.

Di found herself lacking assistance in the middle of a dance. She looked around her her friends; Nan was already gone- she had probably left with Jerry soon after Jem took Faith out. Di wondered fleetingly whether the word would get to Susan one of these days- Nan was running the risk of being denied chocolate pudding for the rest of the summer.

Shirley was twirling Betty Mead around and Carl had asked Miss Oliver to dance- what a dear he was, always so thoughtful! Gertrude must have been rather unhappy to be sat on the couch, watching all the young people on a night made of daydreams! Miranda Pryor was with Joe Milgrave, repenting, by the looks of it, for the inexcusable sin of walking to the light with 'Little Meredith'.

Di felt a little too dizzy to dance. She asked Tom Douglas to claim a later dance- although her card was already scribbled all over and it was difficult to pencil him in. She looked around for Walter- and seeing he was nowhere to be found, she left the lighthouse. She felt, with almost palpable certainty, that he was outside.

* * *

Jem and Faith went to the rocks, which naturally excluded the location for Nan and Jerry. Neither of them minded it very much, though- it was too frequented a place.

Jerry led the way into the woods.

"Careful," he said, putting away a branch. "I know it's a little dense here, but I think you'll like where I'm taking you."

So she did- a little glaze bathed in moonlight, coming through the circle of firs which surrounded it. Nobody could see or hear them here, but _they_ could still see the dancing lights of Japanese lanterns and hear Ned Burr's violin.

"A room for two," Jerry said with a smile, spreading his jacket on a big rock so that Nan could sit on it.

He positioned himself on the rock, debating in thought whether he was entitled to see as close as he wished or whether he should keep the appropriate distance. But then, he didn't want Nan thinking he was moving away from her. The weaker part of his nature prevailed, and Nan soon proved to be equally weak, as she nestled against his arm, taking her silver slippers off.

"Uh, they are such a sore!" she complained. "I knew they would pinch beyond reason, I knew by those horribly narrow straps."

"You knew they would pinch- and yet you wore them nevertheless?" Jerry asked.

"Yes, and I would have done it again!" she said defiantly, and they both laughed. "The surprise in your voice is just like a man's, too!" she quoted Miss Korelia unwittingly.

She finally threw the shoes off and heaved a little sigh of relief.

Jerry looked at her and found himself- again!- at a loss for words. She was looking at her bare feet, touching the dewy grass; she had to bend her head to do that and she looked for all the world like a little white bellflower, her hair pinned so high as to expose her long, willowy neck. He drew a breath, still rather incredulous to find her next to him, so close.

As he touched her little white hand, she lay his head on her shoulder. Her soft, dark hair brushed against his neck and he had to suppress a shiver. He wanted to tell her so many things- and he could not find the words! He, the chairman of Redmond Discussion Group, always sparring with somebody about the war, the economy, morality. He, of all people, felt ridiculously tongue tied.

He suddenly heard her humming to the music. When he looked down, he noticed her feet were swaying to the melody.

"I don't know who's doing it was that minister's children cannot dance on nights like this," she sighed with resignation. "But I hope they twisted their ankles before every party in their life."

Jerry laughed at the vehemence in her voice.

"We could go back inside, if you want," he offered, rather in spite of himself.

She lifted her head and looked at him blankly.

"You don't have to sit out on a perfectly enjoyable dance just because of me," he added by way of an explanation.

Nan looked at him demurely; Jerry was not to know, but she felt unable to speak in his presence, too. He was so disarming with his encouraging voice, so clearly at variance with with his slightly disgruntled expression. Nan had noticed, dancing with Fred MacAllisters, the little envious look in Jerry's eyes, as he watched every step and turn of their waltz. And so did Fred, it seemed.

"I'mma have to watch my back tonight," he said to her. "Meredith looks as if he wanted to kill me on the spot."

Nan laughed, promised to keep 'Meredith' pacified, thanked him for the dance and decided to put an end to Jerry's sorrow. A bit haltingly, it must be admitted, as his jealousy was a very explicit proof of his feelings- and he spoke so little of them and in such guarded terms!

But Nan, strangely, did not mind his reticence at all. For she, too, found it rather hard to expose herself- not so much to him, but to all the prying eyes around them. She tried to imagine being talked of, like Jem and Faith were, having bets made on how long they would 'last' or whether they were 'serious 'bout it'- and she recoiled from the very idea. The way things were now was just what they should be; quiet, still a bit shy and very, very sweet. The air around them always seemed vibrant with all the unsaid words.

If she were to answer openly now, she would have told him that she far preferred just sitting here with him to dancing all night long with any other boy in the lighthouse.

"No, thank you," she said.

He looked at her for a long, long moment- then he smiled, stood up and stretched his hand. And when she stood up, he whirled her around to the distant music.

"Why," Nan said, putting her hand on his arm. It felt almost like flying- the one-two-threes of waltz have never been so sweet and exhilarating. "Who would have thought. Gerald Meredith, the master of compromise!"

He laughed.

"Simple, but brilliant, would you agree?"

Nan was about to nod her head, but she froze suddenly, as if struck by a lightning.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, really, I just realized- this is our first dance, Jerry," she smiled at him shyly.

Jerry gave back the smile, but there was the faintest teasing curl to his lips.

"How are you finding it?" he asked with mock formality.

"Good- surprisingly so, given that a minister's son is not supposed to have much experience," she retorted instantly, making Jerry laugh fondly at the fierce quality in her voice. "Who did you get such abilities from, I wonder."

"Why?"

"Why- what?"

"Why does that make you wonder?" he asked, grinning as if he had just discovered her innermost secrets.

She burned with embarassment.

"Jerry! Do not you get any idea into that head of yours that I'm asking out of jealo-"

He spun her around so that she couldn't finish and then drew her very close to himself.

"Faith taught me. And for the record," he whispered into her ear and she knew he was smiling, although she couldn't see fis face, "I didn't like it either to watch you with MacAllister today."

They stopped, Jerry pressed her hand. He lowered his head and Nan drew a sweet, scared little breath as his face neared hers.

And then the music died.

They both jerked up their heads, looked at the lighthouse- then at each other. Nan rushed through the dense shrubberies without a word, propelled by a sudden premonition, and Jerry followed her, covering her arms with his jacket.

At the top of the steps they halted; dark premonitions were Walter's to make, but one didn't need much insight to draw conclusions from a flurry of excited voices and worried faces. Nan suddenly felt very cold; she drew the flaps of Jerry's jacket around herself.

"Meredith!" Ken's voice suddenly rang near them.

"What goes?"

"You haven't heard the news?" Jem leapt out from behind the rocks. "What have you been doing then? The Piper has come for us! England declared war on Germany today."

"They did," it was a statement rather than a question.

"Rotten luck with that ankle," Ken said hotly. "You fellows are so lucky!"

"You've seen enough of the world, Ford, now it's our turn!" Jem patted him on the shoulder. "Come now, Jerry, maybe you can persuade Captain Josiah to hoist the flag. He wouldn't listen to me."

Jerry followed him instantly, answering the age-old call, unhesitatingly. But he looked back after a few steps.

Nan stood on the white sand. His jacket fell from her hands and lay crumbled around her feet. They were still bare, for he forgot to give back the slippers he had taken from their little hideaway glaze.

* * *

Di had to doubt her conviction very soon. Walter was nowhere to be found.

She very highly doubted that she would find him on the rocks, as that was where Jem and Faith trysted. The pier was occupied by Mary Vance and Miller Douglas- fancy that sight! But Walter was not to be found anywhere else, and she began to wonder whether he would go against Father's warnings and row a flat to the sandy shore?

She caught Harry Lewison's arm.

"Have you seen Walter by any chance?"

"Inside!" he shouted in passing, as he speeded to the rock steps.

Di felt slightly offended; why, not even half an hour had passed since he acted as if there was no one else worth even looking at! But she wouldn't waste another thought for him. She began climbing up the steps, despite her silver slippers which bit at her fingers mercilessly- oh, the dreadful Toronto ideas of fashion!

She knew something had happened, even before she made it to the lighthouse. The boys gathered around Jack Elliot from over-harbor- Di was surprised to even find him at the party, as he was probably the most serious medical student in the whole Island- bellowing at one another.

"England- war- Germany" Jack's voice reached Di's ears and she halted near the pier, where Mary and Miller where sitting, disgruntled at the disruption of their tête–à–tête.

Walter, pale and dark-eyed, walked outside and relief shone on his face when he saw her. Before she could run up to him, Jerry and Nan arrived out of nowhere.

Di watched her sister grow as white as a ghost as Jem, Ken and other boys intercepted Jerry for their doings. As they dashed off, Di heard Mary's shrilling voice, suddenly very close.

"What a fuss to make over nothing! What does it matter if there's going to be a war over there in Europe? I'm sure it doesn't concern us."

Walter turned to her and his eyes were ablaze.

"Before this war is over," he said–"every man and woman and child in Canada will feel it–you, Mary, will feel it–feel it to your heart's core. You will weep tears of blood over it. The Piper has come–and he will pipe until every corner of the world has heard his awful and irresistible music. It will be years before the dance of death is over–years, Mary. And in those years millions of hearts will break."

Shiver took over Di's body as she heard his changed voice. But Mary, it seemed, was much more resistant.

"Fancy now!" she scoffed, very much like Miss Cornelia probably would. She turned around on her heel to find Miller, who had already wound himself among the boys.

When Walter began to talk to someone about the Balkans, Di turned around to find Nan. But her twin was occupied; she was listening to something Faith Meredith was whispering into her ear, shaking her head and cleaning up a dark grey jacket that belonged to Jerry, apparently.

Di plopped on a nearby rock. A war! It was the twentieth century, nobody talked of wars anymore! It couldn't be possible- could it? Walter spoke with such certainty, in a voice which seemed to belong to someone else; someone who could see the future.

"The British navy would have to be licked for one," Harvey Crawford was saying, as he shrugged his shoulders and Di felt thankful, thankful to the core of her being for his sturdy, imperturbable bearing. "And for another, Miller here, now, and I,_we'd _raise a dust, wouldn't we, Miller? No Germans need apply for this old country, eh?"

The guests slowly dispersed, but she remained where she was, transfixed. Jem and Jerry came back and took Nan and Faith inside; Mary dragged Miller away to the shore. Only Walter stood still, looking out to the peaceful wavelets of the Four Winds- as if he was watching the beginning of another deluge. Di, who was about to walk over to him, noticed a little shadow, passed over by everyone as they want back inside to return to the festivities.

Una walked out and put her hand on Walter's shoulder.

"Walter- is that true?" she said. Her voice was quiet, but Di thought it was not fear at what she heard from Walter, but rather bashfulness at her daring attempt to speak to him. Neither of them seemed to notice her, although she was sitting so close and in such an exposed spot.

"The war? Of course."

"No, I mean- what you said. Will it take years? Will we really feel it, like you said?"

Walter opened his mouth to tell her- to tell her everything he knew, what he once saw in Rainbow Valley and what now came back to hit him like a wave. But then he looked at her frail, shaking hands- and he couldn't bring himself to do it. He laughed a little bitter laugh, not knowing that it frightened Una even more.

"Not necessarily," he forced himself to say. "We seem to have so many valiant protectors."

But when Una shivered even more upon hearing this new tone to his voice, his face grew mellower.

"Fear not, Una" he told her, took one of her hands and pressed it slightly. "A land which bears daughters like you, will surely bear sons to protect them, too."

At that lifted her little white hand and- and kissed it! Then he looked into Una's wistful, sorrowful eyes and turned around on his heel. He walked away without another word, as if he was fleeting an unpardonable disgrace.

Di couldn't move. The little tense moment of connection between Walter's and Una's eyes was so palpable that even she felt it, sitting further away. It froze her, although she knew, she _knew_ that she should have slipped away. But the sheer surprise of it all was too much for her to bear.

It wasn't about Walter kissing anybody, let alone his kissing somebody as sweet as Una. It was the stealthy, secretive air of this almost-kiss that touched her. Had it been Ken, or Jem she wouldn't have been surprised; for crying out loud, Jem kissed Mary Vance once! How Nan told him off for that! She wondered, whether Walter would tell her about it- and, with a sharp pang, considered the possibility of the first secret that Walter would keep from her. After all, there was nothing to talk about- nothing to be ashamed of- nothing to require any commitment.

But ust about enough to give Una the tiniest spark of hope. Di felt anger taking over her like a flame. How could he be so heedless? He, of all people, who knew how easy it was to fool oneself.

Una turned around, noticed Di and her cheeks burned. Then she put her hand to her forehead.

"Do you think we could go back?" she asked in a weak little voice. "My head is aching."

"So is mine," Di answered sympathetically. There was no need to pretend she had not seen anything; Una's face betrayed her utterly. "Let's call Jem."

They found the rest quickly, as they all gathered around Jack Elliot and his newspaper. As they were piling into the boat, Walter asked suddenly,

"Where is Rilla?"

"The last time I saw her, she was with Kenneth," Nan said, sitting on the bench beside him. Then she put her hand on his shoulder and a secret understanding, which can happen between any two souls who share a friend, however different they would be, passed between them. "She'll be alright, he'll see to it. Let's not spoil this night for her any more than it already has been spoiled."

Jem rowed as if his arms grew stronger from the sheer excitement of the news. He and Jerry talked incessantly in loud voices, but Di couldn't hear them. She had been walking with her head up in rosy, rainbowy, golden clouds- and suddenly she found herself in the eye of the storm. Nan clutched at her arm wordlessly. She, too, had heard Walter's portent.

But here, on this sinuous, quiet road, their well-known way home, the high-strung atmosphere subsided. Di closed her eyes and let the distant, steady roar of the soothe her mind. Nothing could reach them here, on their very own Island. Boys will be boys, she told herself, they will likely be making a lot of fuss for the next few days and then go back to fishing, rowing and what not.

This time they walked in different configuration. Jem and Jerry were surrounded by the rest of the boys; Nan wouldn't let go of Di and Faith walked beside her. Una and Walter were both alone and silent.

"Look!" Jerry exclaimed suddenly, pointing at something in the distance.

Captain Josiah did not yield to Jerry's persuasive powers and the flag on the Four Winds Light was not to be run up until the morrow. But Norman Douglas did not care about such trivialities as proper caper. Union Jack streamed on the fierce wind above the Douglases' abode.

It brought forth the least expected reaction from the young people marching to Glen St. Mary. All boys tore off their hats and waved them, cheering loudly until the dogs answered with howling. The Piper has summoned them with the insistent tones of his strange, irresistible music- and they were supposed to follow him round and round the world, however surely Diana might have doubted it.

Why- has Faith Meredith lost her mind, tearing a ribbon off her head and waving it like the boys did with their caps?

"Oh, if I were only a man, to go too!" she cried with flashing eyes.

Di looked at her disbelievingly- and then turned to Nan. But her twin seemed to have caught fire on the flame of the boys' excitement.

"I shouldn't feel this way, I really shouldn't," she turned to Di, whispering feverishly into her ear. "But, Di, I am so proud now! I'm proud that we will stand by England- that we will answer the call-" her eyes glistened as if she was about to cry. But she laughed deliriously instead and wrapped her arm around Di's waist.

But Diana didn't share her agitation. She was swept over by an all-consuming surge of emotion. It was an lmost unbearable, confusing tide of contradictory feelings. Mostly, though, she felt relief. Relief, for Walter had had typhoid- and that meant precisely that he wouldn't be able to go, even if Jem or Jerry did.

"But they wouldn't," Di thought stubbornly. Father and Rev. Meredith wouldn't let that happen.

The poor lame boy didn't keep up with the other children in the Pied Piper story, a thought suddenly struck her. It was irrational, and absurd, and impossible- and Di believed it. Walter wouldn't go, he wouldn't leave her alone, no matter how much he wanted to-

But then- did he want it, really? She looked around and found him standing a few steps away, a shadow over his face- his cap laying firm on his dark, glossy hair.


End file.
